


A Night at The Bunker

by savv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savv/pseuds/savv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sits alone at the bunker just like his miserable self has been doing for the past two weeks while Sam and Cas are missing. Sam is out on some pity trip and Dean just has no clue where Cas is. What happens when the mysterious angel bursts into the bunker at just the right time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night at The Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is my first attempt at writing smut so just tell me what you think in the comments please!

Dean is sitting, alone, in the bunker yet another time. Cas is missing, Kevin is dead, Sam is god only knows where and maybe not even him. Sam has been gone since his and Dean’s “fight.” Sam still blamed himself for Kevin’s assassination; Dean tried to convince him otherwise but Sam refused to listen. Dean was grief-stricken and all he wanted was someone to share his time with. Sure, he put up this whole macho act with his porn and pie obsession but deep inside, a side he’ll never let show, he longs for companionship and for maybe even someone to share passionate times with. Lisa was great and possibly even his “true love” or “soul mate” if he believed in that bull-crap. Dean wasn't sure if he even believed in true love. Sure, girls had thrown themselves at him and sure he had toyed with them for amusement but he didn't know if he even loved Lisa, let alone random girls from a bar.  
Dean only sat. He sat and he waited: for what, he was not sure. All his life seemed to be sitting and waiting and just hoping something happens to him. He mindlessly flipped through channels and magazines hoping to find something to feed his boredom. All he found was boring porn and cruel, heartless murders. Possible cases didn't even catch his attention anymore; all he did was sit and wait. Waiting for something to happen or for some monster to burst through the monster-proof doors and kill him. He held the bottle of jack into the light and simply whispered “Screw this.” And took a swig. And another, and another. Soon, the only thing he could see was blurry lights and swirling colors. The bunker door flies open and Dean notices a tan trench-coated man walking towards him. “And who are you?” Dean slurs, chuckling softly. The man in the coat walks up to him and soon Dean can see an almost concerned look on his face. “Why so serious?” he asks with a goofy grin.   
While trench-coat man doesn't laugh, nor smile, he does give a response. “You know who I am, Dean. Look at me; my name is Castiel.” Trench-coat man seems genuinely worried about Dean’s state of mind. Dean only raises the bottle and gives a questioning look. He makes a gesture as if to ask if Castiel wanted any. “Please put the bottle down.” Dean does as he is asked.  
“Your eyes are like the ocean; they’re so pretty and blue!’ Dean exclaims, reaching his hand up to touch Castiel’s face. “And you need to shave dude, seriously.” Dean mumbled, softly brushing his thumb over the stubble on Castiel’s face.  
“Dean. Dean. P-please stop touching my face. It is making me uncomfortable.” Castiel steps back, observing the drunk Dean Winchester that was in front of him. All dean did was step forward and put his hand on the angel’s face yet again.  
“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?” Dean chuckles and leans forward, putting his other hand behind Castiel’s head, intertwining his fingers with the messy locks belonging to the mysterious trench-coated man. “Come on, Cas. Just let loose for a little while!” Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to Cas’s neck.  
“D-dean. T-this isn't right. You aren't sober.” Castiel begins to protest before being cut off by the velvet noise of his own moan. “Dean, please. Do not do something that you will regret.”  
“Oh baby I’m not going to regret a thing. You see, I've been wanting to do this for a long time.” Dean rasps against his neck. He continues to nip and suck at Cas’s neck creating hickeys that were sure to last for days. Cas’s breath hitches as he fights to hold back a moan. Dean pushes him against the wall and pulls off his trench-coat. Dean slams his lips onto Cas’s, his only feelings at that moment being lust and need. Castiel kisses back with such force that it would be considered sinful if he were not an angel. He takes off Dean’s jacket and begins unbuttoning his own shirt, taking extra care to leave on his tie. Dean, being frustrated with the slowness of the whole process, rips off Cas’s shirt and begins trailing kisses down his stomach. As Dean makes his way back up to his neck, Cas throws his head back in pleasure. Dean begins to unbutton Cas’s pants and pull them down to his ankles, soon followed by his underwear. Dean placed his lips around the head of Cas’s cock and flicked his tongue across the slit once before taking the whole thing in his mouth. Sloppily, and drunkenly, Dean bobs his head back and forth, gently scraping his teeth along and then moving to sucking. He looks up into Cas’s deep blue eyes, seeing conflicting feelings of lust, confusion and pure bliss.  
Cas makes a strangled noise while tangling his fingers into dean’s blonde locks. “D-dean,” he stutters, “harder-oh-please!” Cas looks down to see Dean’s glazed over, emerald eyes, his hollowed cheeks and his lips, which were dark and swollen with saliva. Cas’s hips buck which sends his cock so far down Dean’s throat that it sets off his gag reflex which, naturally, sends Cas’s mind into a fuzzy and distorted warp. Dean reaches one of his hands up and begins to rub Cas’s perineum; slowly at first then going harder and faster, like a vibration. Suddenly, “Dean!” Castiel husked. Then, time slowed and the Earth stuttered on its axis. The whole world went blank and his vision faded to black as white noise surrounded him. His eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back in pleasure from the heat of the moment. Trails of fire seemed to dance on him, creating the most pleasurable sensation he had ever felt. “Damn- ah fuck Dean!” he grunted, his fingers uncurling from Dean’s hair. He made one more flick of the tongue before rising up and grasping Cas’s unshaven face in his hands. His beard scraped Dean’s fingers and it took all of his willpower not to jump him then and there. He was drunk but he wasn't that drunk. He placed his lips on Cas’s lips: softer and gentler than before. Dean kissed him passionately and slowly before pulling away and just staring into the deep blue abyss that resided on the devastatingly beautiful angel’s face.   
“Now if only I could do this without acting drunk.” Dean thought to himself with a smirk.


End file.
